Torn in Love (An Artistic Love Sequel)
by Aitherrs
Summary: Tom and Rosie's relationship becomes more and more heated as Rosie hides her growing feelings for Ben...
1. Chapter 1

"I hate this. God I'm so stupid. Of course I love you. I do. I really do. So, why couldn't I just say that? Why can't I tell you that I think about you every night or I imagine us dancing when I hear a summer song on the radio or I wish you are watching me when I play my guitar? I have wanted you to know that I've loved you since the moment you walked through that door with you're broken French and your nervous smile. I love that it took us several attempts to actually kiss and I love that you were too gentlemanly to admit that you were desperate to kiss me. I love that I can drive you crazy and silence you with just one kiss. I don't know why it has taken me so long to say all of this to you. I think this has just come out as a ramble but I don't care. I just had to say it. I've wanted to for so long. I just didn't know what to do or how to say this before now. These past few months have been like torture for me. I wish I could express how sorry I am and how much I don't deserve you. I just hope you can't forgive me." I took a breath, forcing my eyes up, my cheeks burning, I scratch at the chair mindlessly..silence. Destructive, obliterating silence. "Is that good enough, would you say? Or should I change it? It sounds desperate doesn't it? Oh god, I sound like a desperate nobody. Maybe this isn't such a good idea, I mean..."  
"Are you going to let me speak or just carry the conversation for the both of us" I glanced up at Ben. He grinned slightly. I don't think I'd ever noticed how beautiful he really was. His marbled cheekbones and strong jaw. His curled, misbehaved hair. His smile. He really was beautiful. He took my hand, I'd missed the soft touch of skin on skin – it left a tingle, but, obviously, it wasn't the same. Nobody was the same. "He loves you. I know that. You could fart and cry in front of his tonight and he'll still love you. Besides you look beautiful, if he doesn't take you home tonight. I will." He winked, closing the lid of his eye over the emerald centre piece, emphasising his joke.

"That sounded a little threatening Benny boy!" I giggled gently. "Would somebody be jealous if I went home with another man tonight?" I gasped softly, standing up still shocked. My socks slide against the cold floor. I head towards the wooden door, the heat of the fire leaving me exposed to the harsh air. I feel him behind me. His hand grazing my arm softly, his heated breath on the curve of my neck. The fabric of his clothing touches my unveiled skin.

"Oh, I would be fuming." He growls, my heart beat quickens as he grumbles a soft laugh. "I hope he says no tonight, I want to be the one to comfort you tonight" He huffs softly, the warm air encircling my neck as it merges with the atmosphere. My cheeks burn. I should not react like this. I love Tom. I do. This is Ben, my friend Ben – I'm sure he's joking. I remind myself that his rough skin is smoothing my forearm carefully, my skin is heated from his touch. My heart races. He moves. I miss the heat of his body beside me. It is so wrong for me to feel like this about another man – I know I don't love him but I can't help myself. "But Tom is an exceptional man. He'd be lucky to have you back in his arms." I don't turn around, I hear his footsteps on the stairs, each step, slow, tortured. What just happened?

**This is a taster/ opening to the sequel of 'An Artistic Love'. It's short but I hope you like it and it gives you a taster of what is to come! Let me know what you think! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this took so long. Broke my laptop, lacked motivation...the list of reasons is endless. Anyway, hope you enjoy! A x**

* * *

Ben and I had become close after we met on a long and delayed train journey from London to Cardiff. The train had been halted for just over two hours. It was just us. One eight man compartment on an antiquated coal fuelled train. The large cushioned red seats held four people at both sides, I had chosen the seat closest to the iced window and Ben had chosen the seat opposite me. His white shirt hugging him tightly beneath the crumpled leather jacket and winter scarf. When nobody else came in we assumed it was just us. We were right. The beginning of the journey had been normal. We'd sat, politely ignoring one another, he'd read his script and occasionally caressed my skin with his warm eyes and I would sit there headphones in, staring blankly through the thinning sheet of ice clinging through the window pretending not to notice. Despite the icy ground and falling snow outside, it had been warm. When the train stopped, he made his first remark.

"You're an artist." He stated, placing his script to one side and throwing his left leg over his right. His hands settled on his rugged blue jeans, his thumb caressing the tip of his knee. He watched me expectantly. When I made no remark, he continued, "I can tell by your hands." With a flick of his wrist, I felt the paranoia kick in. My eyes, naturally, glazed over my hands, looking for paint stains or dirt. I could see neither. "Oh no. I didn't mean –"

He laughed coolly, rubbing his fingertips with his soft, unkempt, brown hair. I felt like I should reply but I didn't know what I should say. I was taken aback by the beauty of his sullen hazel eyes sparkling above his dangerous cheek bones and curved lips. His elegance and poise reminded me of Tom – almost immediately could I see the idea of them being friends. Turns out they were; which didn't surprise me. He had met Tom a couple of years back, had dinner a few times a year to keep in contact.

"I'm Benedict, by the way," He offered me his hand, I took it; watching as my small thin fingers were enveloped in his large rough hands.

"Rosie." The first word I'd uttered was of course my name. I pulled out my headphones, the chord had paint around the rim…I hadn't meant to drop them into the paint. But I'm naturally quite clumsy so it was bound to happen. "Why are headed to Cardiff in this weather? If you don't mind me asking. Of course." The more I spoke, the more flustered I became. What is the matter with me, I thought. I remember now, feeling such a fool as I averted my gaze when the soft tint of embarrassment flushed my cheeks.

"Of course I don't mind." He cooed. "For work." Put simply, he grinned at my sudden interest in him. "I'm an actor that apparently you've never heard of."

"I've been out of the country for some time. I haven't heard of anybody." We both knew it was a poor excuse and the crooked grin on his face expressed this. "Besides I don't have time to go around stalking actors, if I wanted to talk to one I would just text…" I remember my mind drifting, glaring out the window. The constant, hopeless wondering. I hadn't spoken to him since that text. I didn't know what to say. "Never mind." I shook my head, adjusting my beanie and smiling sweetly. I had to face reality. The sooner the better. "Say, are you any good?" He leans forward and murmurs 'no."

"I'd say you're probably better than you think." I reassure with a gentle smile. The train jolted as we hit a corner, I tense and he notices. He slips into the seat beside me, intrigued by conversation and my apparent disregard for famous actors.

"Why are you heading to Cardiff?"

"I have a friend who lives there. I've agreed to take care of their little boy Charlie whilst they work next week." I smile gently, barely. I was so happy when they told me I was going to be a godmother. I have always been good with kids, though, through no fault of my own, I have very little desire to have any of my own.

"Oh, how wonderful." Ben exclaims, edging closer in his seat. His legs curled beneath mine in the seat as he rearranged himself to face me. "I've always wanted children, I would love to be a father. It's my main aim at the minute. But I just haven't found anyone I like enough yet."

"I'm sure you will make a great dad."

The conversation followed through after that. That was the day I met Ben. I've never loved him like that, past the initial attraction there was nothing. Just a close friend who was there for me when times got worse. Not because of Tom. But because of everything that happened in between.

* * *

I carelessly throw myself around the dance floor on the arm of a total stranger. His fingers grasp mine as he spins me and pulls me to him. The maddening sense of freedom filled the room early on in the evening, there were no photographers, no reporters, nor fans. Just a large group of rich actors, writers and directors having a 'secret' party, having fun. After several drinks, I had agreed to dance with this perfect stranger and now he clasps onto my hips and we sway in time to the slowed pace of yet another unutterable remix. When the song ends, he slips me his number and parts from me. I slip myself into a cool white bar stool. Raised from the ground, I could see everything. Every face, grinning as they dance out of time with music. Ben engrosses himself in his dancing, flinging his limbs about and he often pulls faces at the model he was dancing with. She laughs dexterously and bobs, swaying her hips seductively in time with the music. Her purple satin gown highlighting her hips, swoops to the floor hiding her clearly toned legs, her hair pinned up with pearls and her eyes glimmer absorbing the figure of the man opposite her. Several other famous faces stuck out to me, Matt Smith re-enacts his dance from Doctor Who in a scruffy blue shirt, his companion beside him laughing hysterically whilst bopping her head in time with the music. Many others have settled at a table, eating excessively from the all-you-can-eat buffet. Ben Wishaw and his partner, Alan Rickman, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint. All enjoying the company of their companions and friends.

All except me, I hide myself away near the bar. Watching Tom, he looks glorious as always. I watch as he grins, joining Ben in his ridiculous dancing. He's wearing his signature three piece, strikingly blue suit. His hair, natural in colour, is slicked back and visibly crisp. His eyes sparkle with their usual compassion and excitement. His body fluidly flops around the dance floor with unanticipated elegance. He grins, wider and wider, as his movements become less reserved. I smile at the sight of him. Despite his rise to fame, he is still the man I loved.

"Can I get another scotch?" I shout over the music at the bored barman. He nods and sulkily prepares my drink, tossing it in my direction and walking away. I shrug my shoulders, relaxing my body, grasping the glass and sipping. The warm liquid heats me from the inside out, I feel it pour down my throat. As the liquid began to settle, my body relaxed into the stool, I still faced the bar, back turned against the rabid dancing.

"May I join you?" I didn't need to turn around to recognise the deep, excited voice. Tom was towering over me, I could see him shadow. I froze, hand clutching the edge of the cup, heart stopping and starting, palms sweating. I turned slightly to smile, whether it is a smile or a blank expression I can't really tell. My face has numbed.

"Sure." I lied half-heartedly. I finished the drink, one swift gulp and the liquid slid familiarly down my throat. As he slotted himself onto the chair beside me, I kept my head down and absently traced the cool, wet rim of the glass. He sits beside me for a moment, bobbing his right knee in time with the beat of another remix. I can feel his eyes absorbing my chosen outfit, the slim back dress hugged my curves halting a little above the knee.

"Are you ever going to look at me?" He whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on my face. "Look at me, Rosie, please." It hadn't taken him long to plead for my attention. I slowly twist me head, body forward and watch him for a minute. His hand cups my cheek softly. "It's good to see you." The weak smile I hadn't seen for years floods back to me as it creeps up onto his face. All those things I had wanted to say, the words I had rehearsed with Ben a few hours ago leave my head in a blind panic. I stare at him speechless, my mouth opens questioningly.

"I didn't think you'd remember me," I mutter in a softer tone that I had hoped for, "I left you, twice, but you still act as head over heels as you used to." That sounded arrogant, cocky almost but it was true; I had left him twice and two times now had he come back to me just a happy and sweet as before.

"You're not easily forgotten, Rosie. After all this time, my heart still jumps when I see you across a room. You always had this _strange_ effect on me. I was more impulsive with you. I was happy." He splutters at the closeness of the conversation. "Anyway, I should return to my...date. She's waiting for me by the looks of it." He unfolds himself from the bar stool, pausing by my side. "It's good to see you." He whispers softly, barely audible before turning and striding arrogantly back to his date. The person he was with her was not the person I remember.

I watch him without emotion for a little while. My arm resting on the bar, drinks regularly fed to me by an incredibly bored and hungry bar man. He dances with little care, his drink clutching to his left hand and the elegant model clutching to his right. He glances over and smiles; a smile of agony, probably because of how he's acting. I glance at Ben noticing that he's heading towards me. He strides, similarly to Tom, towards me carrying his coat. He eventually crosses the long hall and throws his coat over the chair next to me. Still standing, he stares at me as I stare at Ben.

"I lost you after the second song." He explains half-heartedly. "Hey, you okay darling?" I shake my head, lowering my head into the shadows. His chest covers me as his arms envelop me into a hug. The naturalness of our hugs had always been one of my favourite things about Ben. He shushes me gently, his hand grasping my hair encouragingly. "Did you tell him? All those things you wanted to say to him?" His double question doesn't surprise me, I'd been rehearsing it solidly for a week. I didn't say any of the things I wanted to. I adjusted myself, burying my head under the soft linen of Ben's jacket and when he moves back, his fingers grazing the skin of my arms, gently, softly, until he reaches my hands. He smiles and caresses the skin gently for a second.

"Do you want to leave?" I nod my head.


End file.
